There are so many roots to the tree of anger
that sometimes the branches shatter
before they bear.
Sitting in Nedicks
the women rally before they march
discussing the problematic girls
they hire to make them free.
An almost white counterman passes
a waiting brother to serve them first
and the ladies neither notice nor reject
the slighter pleasures of their slavery.
But I who am bound by my mirror
as well as my bed
see causes in color
as well as sex

and sit here wondering
which me will survive
all these liberations.

1 Comment

  1. Tynishia Houston says:

    WHO SAID IT WAS SIMPLE WAS AN TOUCHING POEM WHEN YOU THINK ABOUT THE MEANING.TO READ THIS POEM IN A WOMENS PERSPECTIVE IT’S IN A WAY EASIER TO VISUALIZE.I’M NOT ILESBIAN SO I DON’T EXACTLY FEEL 100% CONNECTED TO THE MEANING, BUT OTHER WORDS I LOVED IT

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